


A Bitter Pill

by Bowm8935



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Apologies, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From: Prompt #561   (Writers-are-writers blog)</p><p>“I know what you want.”<br/>“Stop.”<br/>“It’s me, isn’t it? Go on, sweetheart. Say it.”<br/>“Stop.”<br/>“Denying doesn’t help your case much. I can see it in how you look at me.”<br/>----<br/>After abandoning him in the slaver caves upon the death of Hadriana, Fenris decides an apology is in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bitter Pill

Fenris was drunk. Sloshed, intoxicated, utterly inebriated. It had been one of those days. Hadrianna had found him and he had killed her, had ripped her heart out and left her body to rot.

In his anger, he had lashed out at Hawke, storming away to nurture the simmering rage within despite the man’s pleading calls to come back. Now, alone and barely able to see straight, he found himself filled with regret for how he had treated his friend.

He took a final swig of his wine, tossing the empty bottle aside to shatter on the floor. Wiping the residue from his mouth, he stumbled to his feet, intent on apologizing to the only mage he cared for. He drug his hands across the wall to stay upright and to direct him toward the exit, wincing when the chilly night air bombarded him at the door.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the street, swaying dangerously as he moved forward. Slowing his steps, he carefully padded over to the Amell estate. He managed to only stumble a few times, luckily remaining upright the entire journey. Once there, he knocked carelessly on the door, leaning forward to let his head thump loudly against the old wood. His elvhen hearing picked up the sound of soft footsteps on the other side, and with great effort he straightened himself up.

The door swung open to reveal Hawke, relief washing over the man’s face upon seeing Fenris standing there. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed one of the lyrium-lined arms, pulling him inside gently. Latching the door softly, he led Fenris into the library, a giant fire still roaring and lending its light to them.

Fenris settled on the plush brown couch that Hawke directed him to, unsurprised when his friend sat next to him. Silence rang loudly throughout the room, making Fenris desperately wish for another bottle of wine.

Eventually Hawke spoke, his voice no louder than a whisper when he inquired about Fenris’ well-being. For his part, Fenris answered truthfully, relieved when he found his verbal skills unmarred by the alcohol. They went back and forth for a time, Hawke asking questions and Fenris answering. He managed to apologize, mildly irritated when his friend brushed it off without a second thought.

The air around them started to feel heavy, causing the elf’s fight-or-flight response to kick in. He surged to his feet, making an attempt to stumble to the door before he could say something in his intoxicated state he’d regret tomorrow; primarily, he was running from his emotions involving Hawke.

He had nearly made it out of the library before the hand latched onto his arm, whirling him around to face the very man he was trying to flee. Hawke gazed at him intensely, searching his face before saying slowly, quietly, “I know what you want, Fenris.”

Fenris gulped audibly, eyes blown wide in panic. “Stop,” he begged, trying to pull away.

Despite his struggles (and Maker take this accursed drunkenness for weakening him to the point of being unable to wrench free of this mage’s grasp), Hawke pulled him closer. Fenris could see the fire burning in his eyes, and he felt the tips of his ears flush in response.

Not that they were the only thing responding to the heat he saw there.

“It’s me, isn’t it? Go on, you can say it.”

“Hawke, please, stop,” he whined, halfheartedly tugging against the man’s iron grip.

“Denying it doesn’t help your case much,” came the low, husky voice. Hawke had leaned forward, brushing his lips gently across the tip of Fenris’ ear, breath hot as he spoke. Fenris shivered at the sensations; he could feel his control shattering. “I can see it in how you look at me.”

Fenris froze when soft lips crashed into his, ears twitching as his mind stuttered to a stop. He grasped wildly at the last vestiges of self-restraint even as they fell to the wayside, trying to keep his urges in check.

In the end, he failed.

When Hawke’s fingers found their way into his hair, he snapped. Letting out a low growl, he placed his hands on the mage’s shoulders, roughly shoving him into the wall, devouring his kisses in earnest. As the heat in the room rose, he wondered why he had denied himself this for so long.

He made the decision to surrender himself, mind, body and soul, to the man in front him then, as he looked inside and realized he was already lost.

Despite every attempt to the contrary, Fenris had fallen in love with a mage named Garrett Hawke.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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